


i'm pulling down stars just to make you glow

by johnny-and-dora (sian_jpg)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Early Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Collection, Pregnancy, more to be added as the collection gets updated!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2019-10-31 18:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian_jpg/pseuds/johnny-and-dora
Summary: "you do know me."or, 'one hundred ways to say i love you' prompts written for jake and amy.(romantic stylez)





	1. sweet dreams are made of this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 41\. "go back to sleep", requested by the queen of my life emma aka @4drinkamy <3 have some post-florida goodness babes. hope you enjoy the first of (hopefully) many in this collection!

He knows it can’t have been more than a few hours since they last saw each other, but Jake _really_ misses his girlfriend.

It’s kind of ridiculous, he muses as he pulls up to her apartment building – he’s seen her almost every day for the past three weeks. The squad practically had to pry her away from his hospital bedside in Florida, and ever since he was discharged and debriefed he’s practically been living at Amy’s place – something he’s still holding out hope could become a little more permanent in the future.

The night shift has definitely provided an interesting challenge (one he’s ridiculously excited to take on in just a few days’ time) – but they’ve pretty much been inseparable since coming home, especially now that Jake’s pretty sure the freaking _moon_ would feel like home as long as he was with her. Apparently his pain meds make him more sappy and clingy than usual, but he doesn’t mind.

Six months of missing every tiny little detail of her has blissfully melted away into a bad dream, and yet now he can barely spend half a day without her before feeling that old familiar ache in his chest.

It’s why he gets so excited limping up the stairs to her apartment with his new dope-ass pimp cane. He loved spending the afternoon with his mom as she doted on him and caught him up with all the new gossip about the lesbians across the street, but all he really wants to do right now is be with Amy – especially because the last text she sent him alluded to a _“surprise”_ for when he comes back.

Between that and the dozen heart eyes emojis she’d signed off with, it’s basically been taking all the willpower Jake has not to risk a speeding ticket.

(He’s slightly worried the surprise might just be another documentary about fonts, but as long as they can make out on the couch for most of it, he’s good.)

It’s reason enough to be concerned when he lets himself in and she’s nowhere to be seen. He frowns, taking her shoes, bag and the fact that the thermostat is turned up to a tropical 83 degrees as solid proof that she’s definitely home, hobbling as quickly as he can inside.

His concern is instantly laid to rest upon peering around her bedroom door – he finds her curled up and fast asleep on top of a neatly made bed, dark hair fanned out on one of her many pillows, more serene then he’s seen her since they woke up in his cramped, uncomfortable hospital bed that first night.

He’d be paying more attention to the details of the scene, even going as far to call it adorable - but somehow he finds his mind drifting…elsewhere. In fact, Jake’s pretty sure his brain is completely short-circuiting as he takes a moment to process the sight of his girlfriend, fast asleep and dressed in delicate, lacy, _stupid hot_ lingerie he’s never seen before on her. It’s making a lot of blood rush to a lot of places.  

Wow. _Wow._ _Amy._

He has to take a minute to remember how to breathe.

As horny as he inevitably is, he also feels a pang of guilt seeing her completely out like that – he knows how exhausting she’s been finding the night shift even though she’s repeatedly assured him   (often through stifling a yawn) that it was worth it to get him and Holt back.

Having to completely upturn her perfectly scheduled daily routine is clearly making her miserable, though, and he hates seeing her so exhausted, only finding comfort in the fact that he’ll soon be joining her. He deliberates whether or not to wake her before deciding that the least he can do is get her to change into something warmer.

“Hey, babe.” He says, as softly as he can, leaning over and stroking her hair. She shifts slightly, giving a slight moan of discomfort that evokes another sharp twinge of guilt – but he quickly dismisses it at the way her eyes swim with unadulterated affection once she finally opens them long enough to realise that he’s back.

“Mmm. Hey.” She says, gently tilting her head up to look at him properly, pushing hair out of her face, clearly oblivious to what she’s wearing and how it’s seriously driving him crazy. He raises an eyebrow at her, hoping that she’ll get the hint, but when she just looks confused he clears his throat.

“…So, is this what you wear to do chores now? Because that’s one way to convince me to do the dishes.”

“Oh, god.” Amy gasps, eyes wide as she looks down, and he can’t help but exhale a small laugh of pure endearment at the way her entire body seems to flush with embarrassment. She quickly grabs at her quilt to cover herself up, making herself as small as possible. He instantly feels bad at how self-conscious she seems to feel, like she somehow doesn’t know that he thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but I’m so exhausted from the stupid night shift I must have fallen asleep. I’m so sorry, Jake.” She quickly rambles an explanation, biting her lip as he sits down on the bed beside her, putting a steady arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t be sorry. What are you apologising for?”

“I feel ridiculous.” She’s deliberately averting his gaze, and it breaks his heart a little.

“Ames. Hey, look at me.” He says, firmly – she finally meets his eyes with all this concern and anxiety and embarrassment that he’s determined to do everything he can to soothe. He’d take it all away, if he could, and he’ll never stop being frustrated that it’s just not that simple; he just wants her to know that whatever she tells herself, he thinks she couldn’t be more perfect.

“You are so sweet, and so thoughtful, and God, you are so hot.”

“Really?” She seems sceptical, but he thinks he can see the ghost of a smile on her face, which means he’s winning.

“Are you kidding me? You are so sexy. If the meds that make me supes drowsy totally weren’t kicking in and if I wasn’t totally convinced that you definitely need more sleep, we would definitely be having some seriously sexy timez right now because you’re driving me crazy.” She laughs, his favourite sound in the entire world, and lets the quilt fall a little.

“Would that be ‘Sexy Timez’ with a Z, by any chance?”

“You know it, babe.” He grins at her and Amy finally lets the quilt go, still blushing a little as he takes the pleasure of being able to drink every inch of her in, exactly the way he spent so many nights alone in his own personal swampy hell desperately wishing he could do.

“…Does this, um, work? For you?” She says, looking down self-consciously, and he instantly softens.

“Oh my god, yes. You’re so beautiful.” He’s completely sincere, and the way she kisses him is enough to satisfy him that she’s finally sure of it, at least for tonight. He wishes she could really see just how incredible she is, but he doesn’t quite have the vocabulary to express it, so he settles for the next best thing.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. So, what do we do now?” Amy asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re going to go back to sleep, and I’m going to join you, and then we’re going to wake up late and have some seriously epic morning sex before lounging around in our pyjamas all day so that you can actually rest before going to work. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” The way she doesn’t even protest a full Peralta special slug day means she definitely needs to get more sleep. He smiles – given how hard she’s worked taking care of him over the past few weeks, it’s nice to take care of her for a change. He’s wholeheartedly determined from now on to be the boyfriend that she actually deserves.

(He’s still being the little spoon, though, and he’s not afraid to play the “you shot me” guilt card if he has to. He has a feeling that one’s going to come in handy for a while.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! come join the chaos and request more prompts over on my tumblr, @johnny-and-dora <3


	2. stop the world, it's only you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24\. "just because", requested by the lovely sara @amez-santiago <3  
> early relationship sleepy contentment & a moderately dope romantic epiphany!

They’re curled up on her couch together after a long day, her head neatly resting on Jake’s shoulder in sleepy contentment, when Amy realises that she might love him.

It’s not unlike any other night they’ve spent together in the past six months - just like every night there’s this incredible, electric intensity that practically radiates from him while he listens to her as she talks, looking at her like she hung the moon while she rants about the latest case Major Crimes stole from her with anger and venom or recounts her latest highly successful drug bust with unmitigated glee.

There’s a quiet natural lull in their conversation just enough to get her thinking – he knows her so well. Their lives have only gotten more and more intertwined over the last five years - from strangers to fiercely competitive rivals to firm friends. It only makes _this_ , this strange, intense, wonderful happiness, seem all the more inevitable. He’s been with her through good days and bad and worse, dealt with stress braids and shame smoking and once, a full-on panic attack.

(He’d stayed with her, coached her through every breath. He did his best to distract her with dumb jokes until her hysterical crying dulled to quiet, hiccupping sobs, made sure she was okay for the rest of their shift, texted her to make sure she was okay at home. It was the first time she had realised that he was full of seemingly infinite surprises – Amy had had no idea she could feel so grateful for someone who had spilled orange soda all over her arrest report the previous week.)

He’s celebrated with her and he’s mourned with her and everything in-between. Jake _knows_ her, so well already – but God, does she love being with someone who wants so badly to know her, to know every inch of her. Someone who listens, who asks about her and actually cares about her answers.

And he _does_ listen. He listens perhaps more attentively than she’s ever seen him listen (except maybe to one of Holt’s old school cop stories), and all for her. He takes in the tiniest, most insignificant pieces of herself that she’s becoming more and more willing to give – and he acts like she’s giving him priceless artefacts, endless masterpieces, in the tiniest ways that let her know she is so _loved, loved, loved._

(She feels _loved_ , even if they haven’t said it yet – it’s okay, because it’s one of those very few things that she’d rather not plan for.)

Sometimes, the way he absent-mindedly strokes her hair or the way he idly, delicately presses on the pads of her fingers as their hands loosely intertwine, makes her suspect that he might not really be listening; even if he intends to. She quickly learnt when they were first partners that Jake’s mind is always in about seven different places at once – and though it almost drove her insane at first, she’s come to appreciate that it’s part of what makes him such a brilliant detective.

Amy thinks there’s probably always going to be a tiny piece of him that’s somewhere else, trying to solve a puzzle or decide where they’ll go for dinner tomorrow night, and she loves that.

But then his eyebrows quirk up when she gets to the best parts of old Santiago family stories, of how her brothers used to lock her in cupboards (hence the claustrophobia) or how her dad would get her to help him solve cases or how games of Monopoly would very quickly...escalate. He gasps and laughs and interjects with questions and jokes in all the right places, and smiles warmly and all adorably nervous when she talks about her brothers and her parents and how excited they’ll be to meet him.

There’s always an exhale in there somewhere, too, that lets her know that he’s listening – a tiny sigh of pure contentment that spreads warmth through her entire body. It’s small, and sometimes she only detects it because of the slow rise and fall of the chest she’s so peacefully and naturally nestled against. But it’s there, and it weirdly feels like home.

Tonight, like most nights, he meets her eyes with _love, love, love_ blossoming deeply in a perfect shade of honey brown, and she gladly returns it – tonight, she begins to think this is _it_. Amy is in deep, light and breezy merely a distant memory thrown to the wind, and she’s never been happier.

It’s all there, tonight – electric intensity and content sighs and warmth and it’s divine; having him. Knowing him. Loving him. She shifts so they’re face to face and stares intently for a beat, Jake staring back with mild, adorable bemusement.

“Hi?”

“Hey.” She says, grinning, and tilts her head up to kiss him, perhaps a little more intensely than usual – when she pulls away he blinks for a second like he’s seeing stars, and grins and sometimes it’s honestly like she’s dating the sun. It’s wonderful.

“What was that for? Did I do something particularly sexy? Because I would very much like to know what it is so I can do it again in future.”

“Just…because.” She says, a little shyly, not willing to share the arguably life changing small epiphany she just had with him just yet. He gives her a curious look that tells her he’s definitely not going to let it go, so she elaborates:

“You’re great. And you always listen to me, and you’re always warm, and I like you.” She lists and he laughs, moving closer to her.

“Y’know, if I’d known your standards were that low, I would’ve asked you out way sooner.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve.” Amy says, knowingly, and he softens, a picture of sincerity. She knows him, too, and she’s so glad she does. She can’t even begin to imagine what she’d do without him.

“No, I wouldn’t’ve. But…I guess…” - he tilts his head as if he’s really having to think hard about it – “…I’m pretty glad I got ‘round to it eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely…reasonably glad. Moderately. One might even say…mildly satisfied-”

“- Okay, pineapples.” She says, kissing him again, eternally grateful for her relatively newly found yet highly effective method of shutting him up – her neck is cramped and it's a little awkward but electrifying, just like it always has been. She feels his smile buzz against her lips and he smells like her shampoo and somehow tastes sweet – and just like that, Amy’s _pretty, reasonably, moderately_ certain that she’s in love with him, just from the way her heart practically lights up at his touch.

She doesn’t have much time to mediate on that dizzying thought before she’s unbuttoning his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure how i feel about this one. i've edited it a lot and gone back and forth over whether it's good or just a bit of a mess. i hope you enjoyed it either way <3


	3. the more i grow, the less i seem to know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. "it's not heavy. i'm stronger than i look."  
> pregnancy fic for the love of my life johanna @amyscascadingtabs, in which jake is defeated by some flatpack furniture.  
> 

Amy Santiago is rarely certain of anything - in the seventh month of her pregnancy, however, she’s started to become very grateful for the few things she is certain of.

For example, she’s certain that their currently iceberg lettuce sized baby’s digestive tract is fully formed, because Jake cheerfully reassured with that over breakfast this morning as he excitedly read from his pregnancy app while she shoved as much granola into her mouth as physically possible.

She’s certain that she’s hungry all the time now, and exhausted, and eternally grateful for Rosa threatening to stab anyone who irritates her as she spends her precious few remaining work days waddling around the precinct yelling at everyone who dares evoke her wrath.

She’s absolutely certain that she wouldn’t know what to do without Jake somehow developing the magical ability to be by her side the second she needs him – he gives her shoulder massages and tries to cook dinner and practically sprints to the bodega the instant she so much as _mentions_ a new craving. He expertly comforts her whenever the mildest inconveniences or minor decisions move her to floods of tears, and he’s done it all without reservation, without complaint, proving all over again that he’s the best partner she could have possibly asked for.

Right now, though, as she watches Jake struggle to get the flatpack crib they just bought on an overly-emotional trip to IKEA through the doorway, she’s pretty certain of only one thing - for once, he might need more help than she does.

“It’s not heavy.” He says, aware of her concerns before she can even voice them - she arches an eyebrow, half bemused and half concerned (a feeling she’s become more and more familiar with over the last ten years of getting to know her husband). She expertly deduces from the mumbled curses, panting and grunts that have been filling the short walk from the lift to their apartment that he might be not be telling her the full truth.  

“I’m…stronger…than I look.” He’s pointedly defensive in-between whatever short, sharp breaths he can take, and Amy quickly realises this may be an issue she has to handle delicately – because apparently it was somehow inevitable that the love of her life had to be almost as stubborn as she is.

“Okay, babe. I’m just saying, Terry offered to assemble it if-“

“Ames, I can do it. I’m not going to be defeated by – by some stupid crib.” He’s so determined that she holds her hands up in surrender and backs off, busying herself with updating her to-do list and re-organising the hospital bag for the tenth time this week.

Fifteen minutes of masterful levels of self-restraint go by before she gives in and finally decides to follow him to what’s soon to be a perfect nursery (once she finds the exact correct shade of yellow), finding him sat in a chaotic, tumulus shipwreck of instructions and cardboard and what looks like far too many slats.

He looks up at her - partly frustrated, partly distressed, mostly _adorably_ helpless - and she loves him more than anything else in the entire world. She’s been certain of that for a long time.

“There’s a possibility that I may have been defeated by the crib.” He says, and she giggles – but there’s not as much humour in his voice as there should be, and she can’t shake the feeling that it’s really bothering him.

“Why are you so worried about this?” She pushes, gently, leaning against the doorway – he sighs, clenches his jaw, deliberately avoids her gaze, and she feels something tighten in her chest.

“I just…I want to be a good dad, y’know?”

“Oh, Jake…”

“I know, I know It’s stupid – but, it’s like, furniture assembly is Dad 101, and if I can’t even do this then…” He trails off, fiddling nervously with the front cover of the instruction manual in his hands.

She takes the opportunity to ungracefully plonk her gigantean form beside him in the pandemonium of unassembled crib parts and grab it from him, setting it down beside her and reaching over to take both his hands in hers.

“You’re amazing, Ames. You’re a freaking actual real life superhero, growing this actual human being and dealing with all the craziness that comes with it…and it’s _killing_ me that I can’t even do this one simple thing to help. I just want to be able to help.”

His hands are practically vibrating with nervous energy and his voice cracks a little on the last word and it’s enough to turn a tidal wave of emotion in her chest on a normal day, yet alone a day where she’s seven months pregnant and cried yesterday at a soup commercial. She holds herself together, for his sake.

“ _You_ are amazing. Jake, how much flatpack furniture you can assemble has _zero_ correlation with your worth as a father.” Amy squeezes his hand, all worry and affection and frustration and endearment at once.

“You are helping, so much. There’s no way I could do this if I didn’t have you every step of the way, guiding me through - that’s not just going to stop when this little one arrives.” She gestures to her stomach – he gently rests his hands on her belly and she almost instantly feels a kick, still a surprise and source of novel joy to the both of them.

When he looks at her again his eyes have this gleeful shine to them that only serves to prove his fears and worries are unfounded.

“You feel that? She is going to love you so much - I can tell because she kicks me _, hard,_ in the ribs every time she hears your voice.  You are an amazing husband and the fact that you’re so worried about this means I know you are going to be an amazing father.”

She leans in to kiss him - the intent is to eliminate all space between them, but that’s becoming more and more difficult as her stomach swells larger and larger by the day. As a result, it’s cramped and awkward and her elephant like shape makes it almost entirely unromantic - but the way he smiles at her afterwards, all soft and sincere, is enough to completely melt her while also giving her the satisfaction of proving him wrong. Double points to Santiago.

“You are so wise. I have such a cool amazing human/genius wife.” He says, beaming proudly at her.

She’s about to kiss him again before she feels another kick and makes a face while Jake laughs, directing his attention back to her bump.

“Did you hear that, peanut? Your mom is so smart. With her brains and my insanely handsome looks, you’re going to be unstoppable. Right, Ames?”

“Right.” She agrees, smiling brightly, satisfied with her flawless reassuring wife skills. They sit in quiet contentment, dusty sunlight spilling in through the windows, and she just _knows,_ for maybe the first time, that they can do this. That they can be parents, even though she still can’t cook and Jake can’t assemble furniture – none of that seems to matter anymore.  


Amy Santiago is rarely certain of anything – but she’s sure, as sure as she is that she really needs to pee and that she’s due a much needed nap, that their baby is going to have the most loving, wonderful father that she could possibly ask for.

She can’t wait for her to love him just as much as she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i's been a stressful couple of days but writing this really cheered me up and i hope it can do the same for you <3  
> come yell about the s7 renewal (!!!!!) with me over on my tumblr, @johnny_and_dora


	4. i'm looking at you and my heart loves the view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. "can i have this dance?", requested by jennifer @storyinmyeyes! <3333  
> newlywed's first date, because undercover operations totally count as a date, right?

“You know, I think this might be our first actual date since we got married.” Jake says cheerfully, grinning at her as he hands her a ridiculously expensive glass of champagne - she takes a small sip (they’re on duty, after all) and makes a face at him, furrowing her eyebrows as she processes the sad details of their dating life.

“That can’t be true. We went out to dinner last month-“

“-And had to bust the head chef halfway through for money laundering, remember?” Amy sighs as he pops a third fancy canape in his mouth, doing another routine scan of this mega fancy rich people event they’re hoping to make a huge bust at if Rosa’s intel checks out.

Jake’s been playing Constance Augustine for most of evening, rich guy who just bought a new yacht – he’d usually be inclined to create a more compelling backstory, but his incredible, amazing, _super-hot_ wife is currently wearing a red dress that’s had him more than a little…distracted for most of the night.

She keeps catching him staring and beaming with this little proud smile that’s only driving him more crazy – it’s kind of a miracle he’s able to speak at all.

They’ve been here for a while - mingling with the guests, Amy clinging to his arm tighter than usual, easily committing to her undercover role as an glowing presence of ethereal radiance that laughs at everything he says. It’s heavenly, really, and it’s also the first night out they’ve had (that wasn’t spent at Shaw’s) in a very long time.

 “Okay, but this shouldn’t even count as a date. We’re working.” She frowns, picking at the tray of olives in front of her, and he throws up an eyebrow.

Intense undercover operation or not, he’ll definitely take it as a date. Stuff can be two things - he’s pretty sure a very wise, beautiful woman once told him that.

“That discounts like…” - He hums thoughtfully, counting them up on his fingers – “our last eight dates, then.” Amy gives a defeated huff of disappointment while glancing over at the guarded door they keep seeing people disappear into and not come back – against soft amusement, he feels concern rising in his chest, and reaches across the table to take her hand in his.

Really, he doesn’t care deeply about the whole ‘dating’ thing – he’s more than happy to get takeaway and chill out on the sofa yelling at Jeopardy and watching reruns of their favourite sitcoms, which is luckily what most of their weeknights consist of. Despite his contentment, he knows Amy is more eager to do something special once in a while, even if their dedication to their jobs tends to make more challenging for them than most. She’s never exactly been one to shy away from a challenge.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re just…busy people who like our jobs.”

“I know. It’s just sometimes I feel like our whole lives are work.”

“I mean, that was kind of inevitable, right?” Curiosity practically pools from her pupils and he absentmindedly traces small intimate loops over her knuckles, heart lifting every time he brushes up against familiar cool silver and he gratefully remembers _hey, awesome, this smart gorgeous lady somehow agreed to put up with me for the rest of her life._

“Our first date was a stakeout. Our first kiss was on a undercover mission - that I’m totally counting as a second date ‘cause we shared a flan and said nice things about each other and you jumped me in the park afterwards-“

“-I didn’t _jump_ you. It was to keep our cover!“ There’s this indigence in her tone which is just begging him to shoot her a knowing look.

“-Ames, you literally couldn’t keep your hands off me. You slammed me up against a tree.”

“… _You_ liked it.”

“Oh, _hell_ yes I liked it. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” He grins, fondly remembering the  feeling of his poor feeble heart almost giving out after kissing Amy twice in one night and it being _everything_ – all weird and electrifying and exhilarating and awkward and the best thing that ever happened to him.

All this time, all that’s passed since then; yet still there’s never really been anyone else he’d rather make out with to keep their cover.

(To be fair, the record shows that there’s never really been anyone else, period.)

“I guess I’m trying to say that if our dating life and our work life wasn’t so horrifically entangled, we might not have even got together in the first place. You’d be dating some super-hot rich dentist guy or something and I’d probably be out on the streets selling my beautiful body for money.” She laughs, his favourite sound in the entire world, and he squeezes her hand a little tighter.

“And hey, if it makes you feel better, there’s no-one else I’d rather go undercover with than you.”

“I’ll tell Charles you said that. Poor guy’s going to be crushed.” Amy says, eyes sparkling with gentle endearment and this kind of gratitude that makes his heart _soar._

“Eh, he’ll understand.” He waves his hand dismissively, leaning over the table to kiss her – it’s far too fleeting for his liking, all delicate and chaste – but heartfelt, too, still enough to make him a little breathless afterwards.

Like clockwork, the music changes to something softer, slower, and they exchange glances. He double checks the tactical plans and available exits and guard rotation before deciding _oh_ , _they absolutely have to_ , standing and offering her his arm.

“Can I have this dance?” She’s about to protest, he knows she is, and he’s about to tell her that he doesn’t mind if she steps on his toes – but she sighs, takes one last glimpse at the guards and back at him, and stands, taking his arm.

“Just one. After that we’re busting these bastards.” She takes his arm as they walk out on to the dancefloor and start to sway in what vaguely resembles some sort of rhythm, which he thinks is as good as they’re probably going to get. Amy’s distracted, though, still lamenting their poor work/life balance, and he knows what he has to do.

“You free Saturday?” He whispers in her ear, one hand steady on her waist as she looks up at him in confusion.

 “What?”

“I’m taking you out on a date. A real, actual, _romantic stylez_ date. No drug busts or stakeouts or undercover operations or paperwork. Dinner at that Italian place you like, just us.” He might have to call in a few favours but it’s already worth it for the smile on her face.

“Seriously?” There’s this colour of hope to her voice that he kind of just wants to bottle up and keep for himself on rainy days.

“Peralta guarantee.” They share an intimate smile, Amy resting her head on his shoulder – the scent of her perfume and the grapefruit shampoo he definitely doesn’t love to steal wafts through the air like it does in the commercials and he’s so unbelievably _happy._

“I’ll mark it in the calendar.”

They catch the bad guys twenty minutes later and hand them over to a smiling Rosa in other twenty, so Jake proudly labels it as pretty dope as far as undercover dates go.

(Of course, he rates it less as dope and more as star-seeing, show-stopping, spectacular once the undercover part is over and that red dress she’s been wearing all night is lying on their bedroom floor.)

 


	5. if we're brave enough (we won't save it up for later)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 45\. "what do you want to watch?" requested by the lovely lucia @sergeant-santiago & niamh @amazingsantiago <333 thanks ladies!  
> not even capital L-Love could get jake the whole way through a horror movie.  
> (somewhere around 3x16 i think)

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have insulted her font documentary. That’s probably what landed him in this mess in the first place.

For Jake, the little domestic routine he & Amy have established is so perfect that he’s not sure these last few months haven’t been just one giant fever dream. Not only does he get to spend most of his time at work staring at her like the love drunk idiot he is (nothing really new there), he also gets to drive home with Amy, flawlessly serenading her with cheesy 80’s pop as she rolls her eyes and poorly hides her smile – he gets to order takeaway with Amy as they sit on his or her couch, swapping stories about their days and the precinct’s hottest gossip.

Perhaps best of all, he gets to spend his evenings watching his favourite cop movies - relatively newly discovered but _even_ better, he gets to ignore cop movies to make out with _Amy freaking Santiago,_ the woman he capital L- _Loves_ , on the regular. It’s bliss.

He wants to keep her around for as long as he possibly can, for as long as she’ll have him - and though the last person he would ever want to take advice from is his arch nemesis, he knows he should probably be making more of an effort to do that. So, as much pride as he takes in his impeccable taste for pop culture, he ends up here, asking a question that very rarely passes his lips.

“…What do you want to watch?”

“Seriously? You’re actually going to let me pick this time?” She arches an eyebrow and he shrugs, pulling at one of the strings of his hoodie, taking a pause to will his stupid brain into connecting to his mouth and actually allowing him to say something midly sincere.

“…Y’know. You’re just…you’re my super awesome girlfriend who I very much like having around, and I may have realised that you don’t wanna watch Die Hard every other week, which is crazy to me but whatever.” He rambles, idly intertwining their fingers, pointedly avoiding her gaze as to not make a Big Deal out of hitting probably one of the most minimal requirements of being a good boyfriend.

(She smiles like it is a Big Deal anyway, which of course already makes it a million times worth it.)

“The point is, you can choose. Anything you want. Even if it’s that lame documentary about fonts.”

“So you don’t mind if we watch something scary, then.” She says, and her coy little smile doesn’t distract him from the familiar way her dark brown eyes flash with challenge. He swallows thickly, holding her gaze with what he hopes is super dope bravado and not the unadulterated naked fear he can already feel swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“Pfft. What? No. I’m totally cool with scary stuff.” She gives him a searching look and a tiny part of him is really hoping she’s going to call his bluff and they can make fun of some cheesy romcom instead – actually, he’d even willingly watch a documentary right now, and deep down he knows that she knows that. His suspicions are only confirmed when she brightens with soft triumph.

“Okay, great! There’s this horror movie I’ve been wanting to watch for ages.”

“Cool. Cool, cool - let’s…let’s watch that, then.”

So, maybe he’s not _totally_ cool with scary stuff – sue him for not exactly enjoying being psychologically manipulated and mind-tortured by some dark corridors, shadowy figures and creepy little girls. He also knows Amy isn’t lying about loving horror movies – she’s already told him about all the different ways she had to prove herself to her brothers, and staying up late with them to secretly watch Tony’s ever growing movie collection was one of them.

(Sure, she could get claustrophobia from them locking her in a broom cupboard, but she couldn’t get…whatever fear of scary movies is called. So inconsiderate.)

He also _knows_ that she’s definitely making him sit through this just to mess with him – there’s practically a spring in her step as she clears their empty plates away and he fills up a bowl of popcorn. Jake briefly considers sprinting out of his apartment and into the night when she turns out the lights, but his crazy nonsense brain somehow convinces him that this is a test that he doesn’t want to fail.

There’s a brief hint of hope as the opening credits roll and she practically hugs him like a koala as they snuggle under her favourite quilted blanket, and he thinks, actually this might not be so bad after all.

He makes it twenty minutes.

Amy’s breath hitches in her throat, quiet gasp of surprise at the appearance of a ghost; by embarrassing contrast, Jake almost falls off the couch with how violently he jumps. At least it gets her attention as she giggles at him, still clinging to his arm and looking up at him with pure adoration filtered through her fanned eyelashes. He clears his throat, desperately hanging to any remaining shreds of dignity he might have left.

“I might…possibly…potentially not be _totally_ cool with scary stuff.”

“I know. I just wanted to see how long you’d last. You’re really cute when you’re flustered.” Her soft smile practically floods the room with warm amusement as he shakes his head, exhaling a short exasperated laugh at Amy’s sadistic enjoyment of his suffering – as much as he (still) enjoys teasing her, he almost likes it more when she does it back, reminding him of all their years as bickering and/or blatantly flirting clueless losers.

Of all the people he had to fall in love with, _of course_ it was her.

“You’re a monster.” He says, shifting to get up from the couch and pause the movie – she pulls him back with unexpected force and suddenly they’re so dizzyingly close that it’s almost as if the world stops spinning and there is only, inevitably, Amy.

The sweet scent of her perfume lingers on her skin and her lips are a shade darker from where the red lipstick he loves on her has faded and her shiny dark curls fall forward, rudely obscuring the beautiful, goddess like visage of the woman he _loves_ – he lightly brushes her hair out of her face and kisses her, obviously, deliberately, passionately. He thinks maybe he was made to do that.

“You love me.” She says when she pulls away, half lightly teasing and half resoundingly certain – he’s about to pull a face and pretend he has no idea what she’s talking about, but instead he settles for a hum in quiet content, pressing another drawn out, lazy kiss to her lips, more sincere that a year ago he would’ve ever thought possible.

“Yeah. I do.”

They never get around to finishing the movie – overall, and not just because it reduces his chances of going into cardiac arrest (although not by much when she looks at him like _that_ ), he thinks it’s probably for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is...not my best but it's kinda cute so i hop you still like it! updates are probably going to be a lil more sporadic from now on as my workload ramps up on the way to exam season but thank you for all the love and i'll hopefully see you again very soon <333 
> 
> also my chapter titles are getting longer and longer someone help me


	6. a promise of hope is enough to feel free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26\. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to" & 79\. "i'll still be here when you're ready."  
> IT'S A TWO FOR ONE CINCO DE MAYO SPECIAL!!!! 26 requested by the lovely tilde @sergeantames <3  
> post 6x16 baby talk because i will never be over jake's reaction bye

“So, are you gonna stop keeping that super fancy pen in your pocket now you know I can tase you with it?” Jake asks, sliding her a drink as they steal away some precious alone time from Terry’s celebrations in their usual booth. She smiles fondly at the warm memory of their first Christmas as a married couple, bright with the new (and yet not surprising) knowledge of their secretly shared heist agenda.

Regardless of its less than desirable electrocuting abilities, she’s incredibly fond of the gift, something practical yet something that can also remind Amy of her husband when she misses having him at the other side of her desk. She’s not entirely sure she trusts the love of her life enough to not use it against her, but the sentimental value outweighs her fears, and there are more than enough of his personal belongings that she’s modified to get revenge if necessary.  

“No, I still love it. Let’s have a “no secret taser” gift policy for this year, though.” She says, as if that’s a perfectly normal rule to have, and he nods in agreement.

“That seems fair. Promise I won’t tase you unless you really deserve it.” He grins playfully and she shoves him lightly before resting her head on his shoulder in contentment.

Already one drink in, she allows herself to space out a little, letting the familiar buzz of Shaw’s flood her thoughts while Jake’s arm around her, seemingly by design, acts as her anchor. Her brow furrows as she recalls the chaos of the day, guilt seeping through the cracks of her conscience at the complete trashing of her usually strong moral compass.

She’d felt bad the second she’d yelled to the entire precinct that she was pregnant (though it was an extremely effective distraction, she had to admit), and Jake’s excitement had made her feel a million times worse - even if it had sparked brief joy in her too. The tangible idea that someday soon she could be pregnant _for real_ z overwhelms her until her husband’s hand quietly ghosts over hers, brings it to rest on her lap. There’s unspoken concern when she meets his gaze and she decides to confess.

“So, I kind of feel terrible about the whole fake pregnancy thing…” She trails off, heat rising in her cheeks, but he just laughs warmly, taking a sip of his beer.

“It’s fine, Ames. Holt told me it was his idea. Sonogram was a nice touch.” He smiles brightly, good humour glimmering in his eyes that does wonders to ease the burden of shame she feels – he’s ridiculously good at doing that, another thing added to the list a very long time ago. She squeezes his hand under the table.

“Still, it was a low blow - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess with you like that.”

“It’s okay. I’m going to have to formally request that next time you tell me it’s for realz, though.”

 _Next time. Next time_ strikes a chord that resonates deep within her heart, sending it leaping with delight. It floods her with relief and, without guilt, she now feels curiosity quietly swelling to a crescendo.

You seemed really happy.” She prompts, nudging him with her shoulder, and his grin fades a little into something much more sincere, like he’s analysing his reaction for the first time. Something seems to entirely shift the atmosphere of the little bubble they’re currently inhabiting - she inches closer to him on instinct, checking that Charles is nowhere eavesdropping in case they cause a cardiac arrest. (Wouldn’t be the first time.)

“Well, yeah. I was. I…you know that I really want to have kids with you.”

She does, now – they’ve learnt from past mistakes and it’s now become a frequent topic of their treasured low, late-night conversations over the past few weeks. Amy’s found herself happily forgoing her beloved daily crossword puzzle in favour of pillow talk - listening to him outpour fear and excitement in equal measure as their hands intertwine, interrupting only to offer soft encouragement and to firmly veto any Die Hard related baby names.

They know they want at least two but preferably the second only after Amy’s made lieutenant. They know that the waterpark money isn’t a fortune but it’ll make a decent start. They know that they’ll be able to rely on Charles and Karen and probably even Holt & Kevin for babysitting duty, that they’ll be able to rely on their family (whether related by blood or by something arguably stronger) for anything and everything they might need.

Most importantly, they know that they have a impressive success rate of overcoming every single challenge the universe has thrown at them so far; Amy is more than confident that this will be no different, completely certain that as long as they’re together they can handle just about anything.

(She’s also certain that Jake will be an amazing father, something he is yet to start really believing – but for now, she is patient, and slowly, surely, something is shifting. More excitement, less fear.)

“I’ve been thinking about it, a lot. Lately. And I’m not…um, totally ready like right now.” He gestures vaguely with his free hand, and she nods in understanding – it’s overwhelming, even to her.

“But I am super excited, y’know. To be ready. Really.” He smiles earnestly and she squeezes his shoulder, thinking of every time her heart has lit up lately when she’s caught him asking Terry about the girls or actually paying attention to the seemingly endless photos of Nikolaj and his drawings that Charles is so proud of.

When she thinks of them having that - having a child to love so completely unconditionally, a young mind to shape together, she’s so unbelievably excited too. Realising Jake has been thinking about the same things, even in the smallest capacity, makes her heart dance in her chest.

“I know. And you know I’ll still be here when you’re ready.” She says, the adrenaline-fueled edge of the heist wearing away into something much tender as she cranes up to press a gentle chaste kiss to his cheek.

It’s another gesture of reassurance, another tiny declaration of the love that softly pulses through her entire body every single second she gets to spend with him, and the way he looks at her with affection overspilling into gratitude creates a bubble of pure joy she never wants to burst.

(Four Drink Amy will find another way to express her gratitude later.)

“Soon, I promise. First I think I better check Terry’s refund policy on that banner.” Amy laughs, any laments at her husband’s seemingly crippling spending problem blown away just for tonight. Instead, she nestles into the soft maroon fabric of his hoodie and it feels like home.

“We’re not keeping it in the apartment.”  
“Not even above the bed?”  
“ _Especially_ not above the bed.”

Later, he gives her the little banner money he’s able to salvage from Terry as an apology for his poor financial judgement - the first thing she spends it on is three real pregnancy tests, burrowed safely in the back of their medicine cabinet, patiently waiting for the next time they are needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i am in the middle of exam revision HELL right now and my brain is totally fried so. i have no idea whether this is good enough but i wrote it instead of revising and it was fun and that's what counts! shout out to the heists for always providing us with excellent jake and amy content. we stan a competitive couple <3


	7. nothing comes as easy as you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. "can i hold your hand?" requested by anonymous  
> some absolutely shameless fluff in which amy santiago finds herself being wooed.  
> (around 3x02/early relationship)

“Can I hold your hand?”

It carries on the gentle summer evening breeze, lifted lightly by the complete lack of any false bravado or pretences; Amy, previously lost in thought about how they’re going to be four minutes late to their dinner reservation and whether they’re going to lose their table, looks at him and finds a softness there that never ceases to surprise and delight her.

“What?” They stop in the middle of the sidewalk - Jake nervously fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, staring at the ground – she feels a warmth that begins to flicker and glow in her chest. Really, she just wants to hear him ask again.

“Can I…you heard.” He shakes his head, dismissive and almost bashful as she laughs, bright and melodic and the kind that only he can elicit from her, completely unfiltered and carefree. She adds this kind of sweet shyness to the ever-growing list of sides of him she’s never really seen before, feeling a powerful rush of affection that almost overwhelms her. He holds a hand up in theatrical defence.

“I just wanted to ask, ‘cause I know you’re not into PDA and all that and-“

“-Yeah. Yes, you can.”

“Cool.” He grins – she pauses to look at him expectantly but he just raises an eyebrow. “What? Don’t get too excited, Santiago. I was just checking if there was a form I had to fill in first or-“

She rolls her eyes, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him forward because being anything more than five minutes late might actually cause her to have a nervous breakdown and because it’s so _easy_. It’s so easy, the way they fit together, and she’s so grateful for how the new romantic aspects of their relationship are yet to send all the other parts of their treasured partnership off-kilter.

Amy’s never felt this comfortable, this relaxed, this safe navigating the waters of a new relationship; then again, she’s never dated anyone like Jake.

She’s always hated change; seeing the soft smile on her boyfriend’s face as they walk down the street, she can’t seem to remember exactly what she was ever afraid of.

“This is nice.” He says after a moment of comfortable silence, swinging their intertwined hands; his is warm, a perfect complement to her perpetual coldness even in the summer months, and her heart swells. It’s been doing that a lot, lately - their teasing rapport has remained startlingly similar except for the previous hidden layers of endearment underneath that now shine brilliant and bright in the both of them.

“You’re such a dork.” She grins – his eyes predictably widen in mock offence.

“Hey, I’m being all romantic and gentlemanly for you! I’m…” He pauses to waggle his eyebrows suggestively. “…wooing you.” He says it in a deep and objectively terrible British accent for her benefit – she can’t help the snort that escapes her, which of course only serves to spur him on.

“I’m going to woo you so hard, Amy. You’re – you’re not going to know what hit you.” His laughter breaks the last word and soon they’re just two fully grown adults doubled over, giggling, right in the middle of the sidewalk. An old lady frowns as she sidesteps them, grumbling – usually it would completely ruin her mood, but she finds herself strangely untroubled, and part of her wonders whether Jake might actually be a little bit magic. Dinner reservations? What dinner reservations?

“I can’t believe you’re wooing me.”

“Can’t believe I get to do this.” There’s a colour of sincere disbelief, this wonder in his tone that catches her off guard, a reminder that this kind of happiness is just as surreal and wonderful to him as it is to her.

“You’ve held my hand before, Jake.” He has – in hospital waiting rooms and on undercover missions, before tricky court cases and after tragedies; always light brushes or reassuring squeezes.

He’s always been tactile – she hadn’t really known what to make of it when they were first becoming friends, but now even after barely a week of them being together she often finds herself craving forehead kisses, warm bear hugs, the tender caress of her arm or idle stroke of her hair.

Amy always feels safe, with him – he’s surprised her a lot over the past few days, but his gentleness is wonderfully familiar, only amplified tenfold in the wake of throwing light and breezy to the wind.

“Yeah, but, y’know. S’different now. I get to do this – “ He twirls her around giddily – “And this-“ He steadies her, hand protective and firm on the small of her back – “And this.” He pulls her in for a soft, quick kiss before she can protest. Truthfully, she finds she has no objection, deepening the kiss on pure instinct, revelling in their new intimacy. It takes a surprising amount of willpower not to practically swoon into his arms.

For the moment, it’s like no-one and nothing else in the whole world matters; and sometimes it scares her, this bubble of happiness they’re currently inhabiting, because she has no idea how long it’ll last before it pops. The way Jake looks at her when they break apart does wonders to diminish all her fears and doubts in an instant; maybe he is magic after all.

“So not a fan of PDA, huh?” He laughs as she feels herself blush, wondering when he became the exception to all her rules. She buries her embarrassment into the flannel of his shirt and smiles at the cadence of his laughter vibrating in his chest, instantly soothed by his hands snaking around her waist.

She is so unbelievably happy that they finally get to do this; the rapid heartbeat she can feel and the grin that takes up most of his face when she finally glances up at him tells her he feels the exact same way. They share a look that signifies the exact same wonderful thought running through both of their heads; _you were worth the wait._

They end up being ten minutes late for dinner - he makes it up to her later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i'm here and i'm in perpetual crisis mode about starting university in a month so here have this plotless fluffy drabble bc it's the only thing my stressed out brain is currently capable of producing! yes i'm somehow still making my way through these prompts after starting SIX MONTHS AGO but y'know...better late than never???? right????
> 
> hope you enjoyed <3  
> also, and i'm so sorry that i physically have to do this: "nothing comes as easy as you" title of your sex tape


	8. lover, please stay with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 38\. "i ~~like~~ love your laugh" requested by the angelic adele @b99peraltiago  
> in which five drink jake will tell anyone who'll listen how much he loves amy santiago.  
> (post 4x09)

The bar is a little too loud and a little too bright for her while she’s this appallingly sober - but Amy steps forward and shrugs off her coat anyway, the pleasant warmth of Shaw’s a welcome respite from the harsh December night outside. She frowns at her phone when it tells her a much later time than she wants it to be – while the rest of the squad have been here celebrating their first week back to normality for hours, she’s been stuck at the precinct closing the last of her night shift cases.

And while she’s exceedingly glad that nightmare is behind them, she’s been getting increasingly anxious to spend what’s left of her evening getting wasted with her favourite people in the world instead of yelling at the ever-uncooperative copy machine and nursing a pretty serious hand cramp.

Of course, there’s one particular person that she’s been desperate to see ever since she insisted that he go have a good time with the rest of the squad instead of waiting around with her; her ears soon hone in on a well-known laugh like it’s what they were made to do.

“Amy!” Jake shouts, waving excitedly from the squad’s usual table - his entire face lights up as her eyes meet his and as he eagerly scrambles to make his way over to her, her heart does an all too familiar flutter. It’s seemingly inevitable at this point that by the time he’s stumbled through the Friday evening crowd to reach her his smile is enough to light up the entire room and her heart is practically doing somersaults. They’re so joyously predictable.

“Hey, babe.” She grins, completely and utterly endeared by the uninhibited affection practically visibly radiating from him – he’s clearly drunk, more so than usual as he displays the comic unbalance of a new-born giraffe, eyes slightly glassy yet so happy to see her.

His scale of drunkenness has always been more fluid than hers but he’s definitely somewhere between four drinks and five, bordering dangerously on Hot Mess territory. She protectively holds out an arm to steady him and his grin is almost blinding.

“Guys! I’m on babe terms with Amy Santiago! How cool is that?” He yells back towards the booth, beaming with a pride that makes Amy’s cheeks burn. Charles gives them both a dreamy look, enthusiastically giving Jake a double thumbs up; Gina refuses to look up from her phone.

She can’t help but laugh at how far gone he is – and can’t help blushing deeply when he stares at her in complete awe.

“I love your laugh. Almost as much as your face. You’re so pretty and smart, sometimes you say smart things or you use fancy words or solve impossible cases and I’m just like…” He trails off before goofily miming an explosion with his hands.

“I love you so much. Sometimes so much it feels like I’m going to explode. Is that scientifically possible? You need a drink. I should get you one because I’m the best boyfriend in the entire world.”

Amy watches him, bemused, as he stumbles over to the bar before she can stop him. Next thing she knows Rosa is standing beside her, giving her a standard stoic nod which Amy thinks means she’s happy to see her. She raises an eyebrow in question and as Rosa follows her eyeline to Jake talking animatedly with complete strangers at the bar she barks out a short laugh.

“He’s such a lightweight, can’t handle a couple of shots.” Rosa smirks as she takes a sip of her beer, alcohol appearing to have no impact on her besides a slightly looser smile. “It was pretty funny at first when he was doing karaoke but now he won’t stop talking about you, which is lame but also kind of adorable I guess.”

Amy makes a mental note to ask about the karaoke later – trusting that Gina will have ample video evidence, she contents herself with watching her boyfriend make his way back to her, familiar endearment surging through her whole being.

“Hey, wanna go home?” She asks, taking the beers in his hand from him and gifting them to Rosa, who disappears as quickly as she’d suddenly materialised. He nods so enthusiastically Amy’s certain that he’d let her take him anywhere - she gently squeezes his shoulder, motioning for them to leave. “C’mon. I’m driving.”

“S’fair. You’re so smart. Don’t know if you can tell but…” He leans in closer like he’s spilling a dark secret and the scent of tequila and Old Spice and (inexplicably) her grapefruit shampoo is almost overpowering. “I’m pretty drunk.”

Her ribs ache from laughing and he looks pleased with himself and it’s a snapshot of their whole relationship if she’s ever seen one and she’s so, so incandescently happy.

By the time Amy actually gets him out of the bar it’s almost midnight; she firmly leads him by the hand to the precinct parking lot while he alternates between humming what she thinks might be Smash Mouth and telling her she’s beautiful in an almost reverent tone. It feels like a monumental victory when they finally make it to her car – so much so apparently that Jake feels the need to celebrate by wrapping her up in a warm bear hug that she feels no need to object to.

“Missed you.” He mumbles, pressing a clumsy yet loving kiss to the top of her head. The few hours that they’ve spent apart today seem trivial, almost laughable when the agonising cruelty of their six month separation still feels so raw – but somehow his whisper is burdened with the same weighty sentiment that it was that first day they were reunited.

She wants to remind him that it’s only been a few hours. She wants to tell him that that’s stupid albeit sweet in that fond voice she reserves for him; that they woke up together, had lunch together, spent the entire day together yesterday; she wants to maintain some semblance of logic. And yet as they’re painted golden by the streetlights, half overtired from a long work week and half intoxicated beyond common sense, logic seems completely pointless.

So instead she gently cups his face, leaning in and kissing him; instead she whispers back “I missed you too” and instead finds - logic be damned - she means it.

“Wanna live with you.” He says, almost childlike in sincerity. “Make you breakfast every morning ‘n’ make you another when I burn it. Wanna share a shoe rack and a spice rack and…other kinds of rack.” He huffs like an impatient toddler and it’s unfairly adorable. “I want you to stay.”

“I want that too.” She says softly, biting her lip and cursing (not for the first time) their shared stubbornness preventing them from choosing a place to live together.

“Really?” He says, eyes shining with hope – and it kills her that she can’t just wrap him up in bubble wrap and hide him somewhere safe and secret, can’t ensure that they’ll never be forced apart again by powers beyond their control. Especially because here, now, she’d easily promise him the world, wholeheartedly certain that he deserves it.

“Of course I do.” She loads the words with as much sincerity as possible, stroking his arm and firmly holding his gaze until he appears convinced.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling to himself and mumbling something almost completely incomprehensible about a “double tuck” – and it’s ridiculous because they’ve been dating for a year and a half but her stomach still dips like their first kiss was yesterday.

It’s ridiculous, because it would be so easy to say there is absolutely nothing logical about her love for Jake Peralta if it wasn’t for the fact that sometimes it’s the only thing in her world that makes any sense.

When he looks at her like that, nothing else in the world needs to make any sense at all.

The drive home is largely uneventful apart from a beautiful interpretative dance to Taylor Swift that she can’t wait to tease him about tomorrow; they slip into bed with as much grace as to be expected, Amy making sure to leave two aspirin and a glass of water easily within his reach and cancel all of her morning plans, deciding they need some well-deserved slug time.

“Will you stay?” He asks softly, gaze far away as they lie together, Amy gently carding her fingers through his hair; she’s not sure if he means just for tonight or something much grander, but either way her answer remains the same.

“Of course I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She echoes, and as he sighs with content and starts to drift peacefully to sleep she falls in love with him all over again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title of this fic comes from one of my favourite songs of the same name by nothing but thieves. it has more of an angsty post-prison vibe but i like to think it works here too, and i definitely recommend giving it a listen <3  
> thanks for sticking around my loves, i really truly appreciate it even though i always forget to reply to comments on here i see every one and they really do greatly improve my quality of life. see you soon!


	9. all was golden in the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 59\. "wow." - requested by anonymous  
> in which amy has a (non-die hard related) honeymoon surprise for her husband.  
> (post 6x01)

“You ready?” Jake’s favourite voice in the world calls lightly from the en-suite of their hotel room; he pauses briefly to double-tap Gina’s latest photoshoot of Iggy before putting his phone away, eager to give his full attention to whatever ‘surprise’ his brilliant, beautiful wife has for him this time. The soft pink and orange hues of the sunset filter in through the windows and  _ they’re married, they’re actually married  _ and a sea turtle looked right at him earlier and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt more content in his entire life.

“Born ready.”

“Okay – close your eyes. I want to do this properly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to draw on my face, are you?”

“Just do it, Peralta.”

“10-4” He affirms, restraining the urge to tell her it’s technically Santiago now as he dutifully squeezes his eyes shut.

(They haven’t officially decided, yet – double-barrelled, singular, whether they should swap or remain unchanged. Really, Jake doesn’t think that it matters – they don’t need to share a last name to be safe in the knowledge that they’re in this for the long run.)

“Okay, you can open your eyes…now.”

He’s not sure exactly what he’s expecting to see when he does – he’s seen her in beautiful floral dresses and Die Hard cosplay and some seriously stupid hot lingerie over the past two weeks. He’s totally certain that she looks amazing in pretty much everything. And yet, predictably, he can’t help but stare like an idiot as Amy beams at him.

Because standing before him is Amy Santiago in her wedding dress.

_ Her _  wedding dress – not the dress that she borrowed from Gina, even though she looked beyond perfect in that too. He knows it’s hers in an instant – it’s so elegant, intricately decorated with the floral patterns she adores only this time delicately embroidered in lace. It compliments her curves perfectly and flows behind her like she’s some kind of awesome badass warrior princess.

“Wow.” It’s the only thing he can manage to stutter out. It’s hard to find the right words – she’s still Amy. Amy, vibrant and brilliant and beautiful in absolutely everything from her pantsuits to her sergeants uniform to her dresses to his hoodie and sweatpants. Yet she’s softer somehow, almost more herself, all her hardships scrubbed away and there’s only her, bright and shining and as golden as the twilight outside currently painting her a halo.

She is completely and utterly radiant.

And, as if all the fates have aligned in the midsummer evening’s sky, she looks like a mermaid.

Her dress makes her look like a mermaid, and it’s almost cruel how vividly he suddenly remembers a money laundering case and a debilitating crush on a girl with a boyfriend and the way he’d shamefully revelled in the tiniest fleeting chance to hold her, to make her laugh, to let her step on his feet. And now they’re here, on their honeymoon, and so unbelievably deliriously happy.

Jake can’t believe just how lucky he is.

“Done staring yet?” She teases, bringing him out of his reverie, eyes glittering with soft amusement.

“You look incredible, Ames.” He grins – she blushes and does a dorky theatrical twirl for his benefit and yeah, that confirms it. He’s so lucky.

“Man. Have I mentioned that I love your butt?”

“It may have come up once or twice.” She laughs; he shifts his weight to make room for her in the bed and she settles down beside him and okay, now he’s really never felt more content.

“I was packing and I just realised – you never got to see me in it. And well…I don’t know. It just felt important, somehow.” His heart breaks a little thinking about everything they missed out on. Their wedding was never going to be traditional, but it’s hard not to mourn the day he’d spent so long building up such a vivid picture of in his head. He shifts his weight to make room for her in the bed and she settles down beside him.

“I’m sorry.” He wants to say more, but when she meets his gaze Jake can tell that she already understands- it must be the psychic powers you get when you marry the love of your life.

“Hey, don’t apologise. It wasn’t your fault.” She moves to take his hand and squeezes it gently – the glint of silver on her hand catches his eye and he absentmindedly twists the ring on his own finger. He’s not quite used to the weight of it yet and he’s almost lost it twice and he never ever wants to take it off.

“I know. I’m still sorry. All that planning and effort you put in…”

“First of all, that wasn’t just me. You did so much, it would have been impossible without you. And second of all, you were right. All that planning didn’t matter because at the end of the day all that mattered was that I got to marry you.” The sincere affection Amy pours into her gaze tears through every single last one of his fears. “I know we joked about the dumpster but I seriously would have clambered into one if that was our only option.”

If there was ever the tiniest shred of doubt that she was his soulmate, it’s lost to the wind now. The exact right way to tell her that is lost to him for the moment, though, so instead, he kisses her tenderly and it seems to pretty successfully articulate what he was going for.

“Just for the record, you could have worn a garbage bag down the aisle and still looked totally perfect.”

“I can’t believe less than a month of marriage has made you this cheesy.” She pokes his shoulder playfully.

“I just…It’s so us, y’know? Like, of course, our wedding day was casually interrupted by a bomb scare and we just got on with it and had a beautiful ceremony anyway.”

“I think we’re pretty much indestructible at this point.” She says; he hums appreciatively as she nestles closer into him and now he’s really, truly certain that he’s never felt more content. It makes their terrible, agonising separations seem trivial now, the rings on their fingers a defiant and tangible promise that they’ll never really be apart again.

“Indestructible.” Jake grins. “I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when the day met the night is absolutely one of my favourite panic songs and has such a great jake and amy energy UGH  
> anyway!!! i'm alive!!! i'm well into almost a month at uni now and i'm happy to report that things are actually going pretty well! thank you to everyone who sent me some much needed encouragement bc i was SO nervous beforehand but i have some lovely flatmates and i'm really enjoying my course so there's not much more i could ask for really <3  
> i'm determined to get this collection to at least ten chapters for some reason? idk it feels like a pretty solid achievable goal so...look out for that i guess. in the meantime though, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> also sidenote happy two years since halloveen, the most iconic sitcom episode in television history. i will never forget the primal scream i let out when jake got down on one knee. thank you dan goor

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! you can find me @johnny_and_dora on over tumblr <3


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